He turned his sopping shoes on end over the grate
and dialed the thermostat higher. He made himself a bowl of granola and
a cup of coffee and sat down at his old wooden kitchen table and ate
mindlessly, then washed the dishes and put them in the drying rack.
He'd have to go speak to Krishna.
#
Natalie answered the door in a pretty sun dress, combat boots, and a
baseball hat. She eyed him warily.
"I'd like to speak to Krishna," Alan said from under the hood of his
poncho.
There was an awkward silence. Finally, Natalie said, "He's not home."
"I don't believe you," Alan said. "And it's urgent, and I'm not in the
mood to play around. Can you get Krishna for me, Natalie?"
"I told you," she said, not meeting his eyes, "he's not here."
"That's enough," Alan said in his boss voice, his
more-in-anger-than-in-sorrow voice. "Get him, Natalie. You don't need to
be in the middle of this -- it's not right for him to ask you to. Get
him."
Natalie closed the door and he heard the deadbolt turn. *Is she going to
fetch him, or is she locking me out?*
He was on the verge of hammering the buzzer again, but he got his
answer. Krishna opened the door and stepped onto the dripping porch,
bulling Alan out with his chest.
He smiled grimly at Alan and made a well-go-on gesture.
"What did you see?" Alan said, his voice tight but under control.
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